


Thin Ice

by BellzaBot



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellzaBot/pseuds/BellzaBot
Summary: Viktor calls him "piggy", Yurio calls him "piggy" and now the other Russian skaters have started to as well. Yuuri smiles and chuckles and pretends its a term of endearment, but it's finally starting to tear him apart both inside and out.





	Thin Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Please be forewarned, I am not writing Viktor and Yuuri as the perfect couple, here. Some people may not like that. Yuuri has deep psychological issues, Viktor is often oblivious, and Yurio is straight up mean. I am approaching them as real people, and significantly more competitive than they were portrayed in the anime. In short, I am writing them a bit more like real people. If you do not like that, I completely understand (sometime I prefer fluffier material myself!) but because of the core issue in this fic (eating disorders), I wanted them to be a bit more realistic with each other. Thank you!

He called me “piggy” again this morning.

I smile when he says it. I pretend it’s funny. I laugh and roll my eyes. And he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how horrible it makes me feel. He doesn’t know how sensitive I am about it. He doesn’t know how much it breaks my heart.

In the off-season, I gain weight. This is new to no one. People have told me before— “hey it’s okay, just continue to watch what you’re eating during those months!”—but they don’t understand that simply “eating a little better” is not enough for me. Minako has never had this problem, so she doesn’t understand. My fitness regimen has never been sufficient, and there is simply nothing I can do about it, save continuing to train in the off-season as hard as I do when preparing for a competition. But continuing to train in the off-season is not healthy for my knees and the trauma to my body would be too much. The breaks are built in for a reason, both physical and mental. If I continued to train in the off-season, it would likely shorten the time I have left to be a competitive figure skater.

Viktor wanted to have fun in the off-season, and we did, of course. We wandered around Japan like nomads and visited friends and saw movies and laid around like lazy people. Viktor wanted to go to dinner every night. “Let’s eat here!” or “Let’s eat here!” every night of the week. I oblige him, of course. I try to think nothing of it and have as much fun as he is having. He and Yurio eat constantly. They’re just… gifted, I guess. Of course, this is coming from the one out of a thousand Asians who actually wound up being prone to being overweight. Just my luck.

A month later, Viktor calls me piggy again for the first time, after he notices the weight starting to pack back on. He tells me how much he loves my “off season pudge.” Is this supposed to be a compliment? Am I supposed to be offended? Does this mean I should lay off the delicious meals we have every night? What is his MO here?

Later that night when he wants to fool around, I gently push him away. He doesn’t understand why.

Good. Stew in your anxiety, Viktor. Just like I stew in mine.

Newsflash to everyone, but especially my flawless fiancé: I will wind up overweight as I get older. When I stop skating. There’s just no way around it. I’ll never look like Viktor or Yurio. And while I have made peace with it on my own terms, being with Viktor has complicated this matter.

“My cute little piggy...” he whispers to me, coming up behind me and slipping his hands into my night-shirt as I am brushing my teeth. Does he think it’s sexy or something? Does he think _I_ think it’s sexy? (Um. I don’t) Guilt bubbles up into my throat. I feel disgusting. I have to spit out the toothpaste before I gag at the thought of myself.

I eat a handful of almonds for breakfast.

 ~~~~~~

We are off to practice. It’s my fourth day here in Russia and already Yurio has called me a pig at least 15 times. He refers to me as “the piggy” when speaking to the other skaters. Yurio’s smart though, he doesn’t do it around Viktor as often. He knows if he pushes it too far, Viktor would say something, so he keeps it under wraps in Viktor’s presence. But make no mistake, he wants me to hear… oh yes he does. Yurio is the King of this castle and he wants everyone to know it. The Japanese piggy, as I am called, is on enemy territory and Yurio wants me to know it. He doesn’t care if I’m Viktor’s boyfriend. Yurio doesn’t care about anything but the ice. Sometimes, I wonder if his heart is made of it.

At lunch, Viktor and Georgi decide to order take out from a place across the street. Apparently, they do this often. The phone conversation (in Russian) takes all of 4.2 seconds, so it’s clear to me that the restaurant already knows them and has all of their information. Yurio has pirozhkis from home, and Mila’s mother seems to pack her something every morning. Viktor and Georgi ask me what I want from the take-out menu, but I can’t read Russian yet so I just tell Viktor to order me whatever he’s getting.

What comes is some kind of insane chicken dish covered in sauerkraut, Olivier salad and hard-boiled eggs. Viktor is a nut. I almost laugh…

But then that overwhelming feeling of disgust bubbles back up in my throat.

I eat one of the hard-boiled eggs and throw the rest away in the dumpster behind the rink while Viktor is chatting with Yakov. 

 ~~~~~~

We only skate for another hour or so after lunch, and everyone usually waits quite a while before starting up again. I have no doubt it’s to ensure no puke winds up on the ice. There have been incidents. We practice during this time mostly by watching each other’s performances and discussing what could be changed or improved. Viktor is very good at this. He’s grown a lot in the past year and knows how to give constructive criticism in a way that now not only addresses the problem, but inspires the skater to be excited about trying again. This comes from a beautiful marriage between praise and criticism that Viktor learned how to engage in because of me. Or at least… I think it’s because of me. Right? I smile while he gives Yurio a note.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it” Yurio mumbles writing something down in the tiny leopard print notebook he’s carrying.

Yurio still hasn’t really mastered how to _take_ criticism, but then again, he’s only 16. When I was 16, I couldn’t even do a double axel and I wore sweaters my mother purchased with the letter “Y” embroidered on the lapel.

When it’s time for my criticism, Yakov sits back and crosses his hands over his chest like a petulant child. He lets his distaste for the situation be known. Really? He silent and stoic while Viktor goes into coach mode. Yakov chews the side of his face. I want to roll my eyes but it would be rude. Instead, I act professionally. I respond with nods and affirmative gestures. Georgi politely asks if he can add to one of Viktor’s comments and Viktor lets me decide if I want to hear it or not. I say yes, of course, and what Georgi has to say actually makes a lot of sense. Is it possible the Georgi is like… sane one around here? How is this somehow not surprising?

When it comes time to give Viktor criticism, everyone is silent. It’s mostly just Yakov talking. I suppose this is how it always is.

I then see Viktor turn to me—staring at me with those beaming eyes and half smile—as if he’s begging me to give him some kind of criticism.

Oh, Viktor. You’re so easy to read now that I know you better. You like to be dominated in bed, and it seems like you also like the idea of me dominating you on the ice. But it’s just a sex fantasy for you, Viktor… you’re so fucking good that you can afford to play silly sex games while everyone is working so hard they could literally kill themselves. You’re fantasizing about me wearing a gold metal while I use your silver as a pair of reigns.

This is a _game_ for him. It’s not about winning or placing or medaling. It’s about power and relationships. It’s about romance and dominance. It’s a fucking kink.

Why does that upset me so much?

I stare at him blankly. Roll my tongue along my lower teeth. Nope. I’m not going to indulge you, Viktor. Not today and not ever.

His expression fades into one of disappointment.

By 3pm, everyone is leaving, and I am starving. I say nothing about it. Viktor says we need to go to the grocery store and my eyes go wide, “Could we maybe do that tomorrow?” I ask.

Viktor chuckles, “We have nothing in the house, Yuuri. Instant oat meal and some canned soup.”

“That’s fine,” I say.

“Well, It’s not fine with me. We need to have yummies in the house, so—”

“Listen, I need to go to the gym. Have you forgotten that? If you haven’t noticed I need to lose about 20lbs in the next few weeks so I don’t know where you get off thinking I can just go off to the store with you.”

Viktor stares at me dumbfounded.

I immediately feel remorseful.

“I’m… I’m sorry I snapped. I’m sorry, its just...”

A moment later, his arms are around me and I sigh, laying against his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispers, so gently, and I melt a little. This is the Viktor I fell madly in love with. “It’s stressful. And I’m sorry, too, Yuuri. I insist on going out for ice cream too much, don’t I?”

He’s chuckling. He thinks it’s funny. He really doesn’t get it. I fake laugh for him.  

“I will come with you to the gym, if you want me to.”

“Viktor, no. There’s no reason for you to go,” I say with a hint of exasperation.

“Of course, there is,” he replies. “To be with you, you silly piggy.”

My jaw tenses. I want to crawl out of my skin. Something had shifted.

“I’d rather go alone, if you don’t mind.”

He kisses my forehead and my nose.

“Okay my darling. But go home and at least lay down and rest a little first. I’ll go to the store myself. Text me all the things you want, okay?”

“Okay.” I whisper.

We part ways and he is off to the grocery store. I reach into my backpack to get the key to our apartment, but when I feel it in my hand I pause. I stare at it for a moment…before shoving it back in its place. I immediately head to the gym.

~~~~~~

 “You didn’t text me anything you wanted!” Viktor cries as he walks through the door holding more five huge bags of groceries. He uses his foot to close the door behind him. Viktor has a trick where he uses two D-ring keychains to create a handle that allows him to carry a lot of bags at once. I take most of the bags from him and place them on the kitchen counter before starting to unpack. Most of what he’s gotten is healthy, but there are definitely snack foods—pretzels and some sugary granola bars, a box of Viktor’s favorite cookies, and a pint of strawberry ice cream (my favorite).

“Sorry I forgot” I tell him as I start loading things into the refrigerator.

His arms are around me and he kisses me gently. His nose is against my hair, and he immediately senses the wetness there.

“You’ve been sweating. Did you go to the gym already?”

“Yeah, I just got back”

“I thought we talked about resting up first?”

“Viktor, I just didn’t feel like it. I wanted to get it out of the way, all right?”

He sighs, “All right, all right” he says, opening the bag of cherry tomatoes and popping one in his mouth.

“What do you want for dinner, my darling?”

“Just a salad is fine” I say.

Viktor makes a face, “Boring.”

What universe is he living in? What part of ‘I need to lose 20lbs in the next few weeks’ does he not understand?

“I’m going to take a shower,” I whisper, and disappear into the bedroom.

Viktor is quiet, and I think maybe I’ve hurt his feelings.

When I lost weight last year before the competition in Hasetsu, Viktor didn’t have much to say about it. Then again, that was during a time when we didn’t know each other very well. I was still uncomfortable in Viktor’s presence. My poor fiancé spent most of his nights alone, and I made sure to block any of his efforts to spend time with me. He didn’t have much idea what I was doing, or how I was doing it. Although it wasn’t too bad—My mother and Minako were making sure I was eating…

Here, it’s a different story. Viktor is attentive, but I’m smart enough to hide things from him. Viktor is a better athlete than I am, he’s better with people, and a better charmer, but when all is said and done, I’m just a little bit smarter about life.

We sit down together for dinner. Viktor has made breakfast for dinner—eggs, pancakes, sausage and even some roasted potatoes. He tries to charm me by telling me I did well today at practice, but I know he’s only flattering me. I very well remember his words from last year _“there’s not much I can do with you until you lose that weight… You’re not stepping on that ice until you lose some weight little piggy!”_

God, I must look ridiculous on the ice.

“You know I think I’m going to skip practice tomorrow and just go to the gym,” I say.

“What, why?” he responds a bit incredulously with a full mouth.

“Well, Viktor—last year you told me I couldn’t step out on the ice until I lost some of my off-season weight. Anything I do out there now is just wasted time.”

“But that’s not true, love,” he argues. “You haven’t gained as much weight time. You’re in perfectly fine condition to start working on choreography.”

“Well I don’t really feel ready,” I tell him.

“Yuuri….” He warns.

I smile at him and give him a wink to get him off my back. If I don’t oblige him, he’ll make me say something positive about myself, and I’m just not in the mood. I stand up and go to the refrigerator and look inside.

“What are you looking for, love?” he asks.

“Just ketchup” I lie.

He moves on to talking about choreography, and tells me I should think about trying to choreograph my own short program, or ask Lilia to choregraph something for me. This is unlikely, though Lilia will likely choreograph for Yurio again and anyway, I don’t think I’m up to her standards of “reborn prima ballerina.” While Viktor speaks, I take the lettuce and tomato out of the fridge and start to make my own small salad. Viktor goes on for a few more minutes about possible themes for the year—enough time for me to finish making the salad and sit down again.

“So, what do you think?” he says leaning forward and waiting for my reply.

“Absolutely,” I say. “I think I should try doing it myself.”

That gorgeous heart shaped smile breaks out on his face and I can’t help but chuckle. He’s so happy I’ve agreed to try to choreograph that he doesn’t even notice the salad—or the fact that I throw away about 90 percent of the food he’s made as we start to clean up. 

~~~~~~

Viktor asks if I want to watch a movie, but my body hurts and I’m exhausted. I did two more hours of physical activity than he did today, and I think I would just fall asleep a few minutes in. I pause before I respond. He sees this and smiles gently before he takes me into his arms.

“I know my love, you’re tired,” he whispers.

I lay against his shoulder.

“Viktor…” I whisper.

“Let me massage your sore muscles,” he whispered, pulling me by my hand into our bedroom.

“Mmmm, but what about _your_ sore muscles?”

“Mmm, you’ll have to tend to me in the morning,” he purrs against my skin.

Viktor likes morning sex. No—he loves morning sex.

He’s a morning person—usually up at around 5:45 and raring to go. He makes coffee and putters around the apartment, but knows not to wake me until around 6:30. Before then, I will either not respond, or throw pillows at him and groan like a wounded animal. On weekends though, we both like to stay in bed. His embrace gets tighter as the minutes ware on and I usually wake around 6ish with his erection pressed firmly against my ass.

It’s not unpleasant.

If we have time, I don’t mind a quickie. On saturday’s we both like to go for a few hours, as long as Viktor doesn’t mind me getting up to brush my teeth first. I’m much to self-conscious to roll over and go right at it.

“Hmmm… right. Tomorrow morning,” I mumble, yawning.  “Sure…”

He knows he won’t be getting any tomorrow mornings. It’s mumbled with an air of sarcasm. He chuckles and kisses my forehead.

I fall asleep in minutes.

The last thing I think about is how damn hungry I am. 


End file.
